Nostalgia
by november winds
Summary: Glimpses of Sam and Dean throughout the years. Spoilers up to 'Playthings'.


TITLE: Nostalgia

DISCLAIMER: If I owned them, I would be a _very_ happy girl.

SUMMARY: Sam and Dean throughout the years.

SPOILERS: Up to "Plaything". I was too lazy to add on what we've seen past that episode :P

NOTE: I never thought I would write something Dean-centric, since I'm mainly a Sammy girl ) But here it is!

Sam is 6 months old and Dean is 4.

Dean drops out of his mother's arms, running over to his little brother's cradle. He leans down to kiss the tiny forehead peeping out of the warm bundle of blankets and smiles at his baby brother. He hears his father come in and call his name, and Dean runs over just in time to be lifted up onto a perch on his dad's arm.

" So, whaddya think, you think Sammy's old enough to toss around a football yet?" John asks, jiggling Dean up and down.

"Noooo, Daddy," Dean replies, vigorously shaking his head. He imagined all the things that he would teach Sammy when he grew up; soccer and hockey and football and maybe how to slide down those wicked awesome poles like those amazing firemen….

Sam is 5 and Dean is 9.

It's Sam's first day of kindergarten, and in the morning, he's bouncing off the walls. He's got his backpack and his shoes on even before he finishes his breakfast. Sam almost knocks over an old lady as he rockets toward the big yellow school bus waiting for him at the end of the street. Dean watches him with a half-smile on his face, apologizing to the old lady, and then making his way onto the bus after his brother.

But when Sam comes home from school, he isn't in a hyperactive mood anymore. In fact, he's bawling his heart out. He has a cut lip, a black eye, and a bruise on his left cheek. His eyes look as red as tomatoes, and he's clinging onto Dean like he's a life raft. When John asks him what's wrong, Sammy just answers by sprinting up the stairs to his bedroom and throwing himself on his bed, sobbing into his pillow. Dean quickly follows after him with an ice pack and throws a brief explanation to his dad, saying that some kids had given him a hard time at school and had stolen his lunch. He scrambles up to his little brother's room, ices Sammy's eye down, and rocks him until he falls asleep.

Sam is 13 and Dean is 17.

Sam comes home from school one Friday and announces that he's got plans to hang out with some of his friends tonight - his first time in a long time. John tells him no, they've got to go on a hunt tonight, and the cant hold off the werewolf for much longer.

Sam is pissed. He yells at his dad, saying that these are the first people who have actually been nice to him at this school and not listed him as an outcast, and that he _promised_ he would go to the movies with them tonight. John yells back at him with the old "You're at this school just temporarily – you won't be able to keep contact with them later" and "With a job like this, you just can't get close to anyone, and you _know_ that".

Dean stands hidden behind the bathroom door, listening to the ongoing fight. He's used to it now - it's been happening almost everyday since Sam turned teen. He hears his brother give a final retort to John and storm down the narrow hallway, slamming his bedroom door as loud as he can. Dean sighs, and comes out of his hiding place. He sneaks away as stealthily as he can, stopping only to listen to the sound of various items being hurled around his fathers study, mixed with the silent flow of curses.

Sam is 18 and Dean is 22.

Dean notices that Sam's been acting strange lately. Hardly speaking, barely eating, and weirdest of all, almost _no_ fights with his dad – hell, he's even been listening to orders without questioning them. Dean believes he is possessed.

He decides to investigate one night - Sam was out buying some ingredients for their next hunt, and John was down in his study.

Dean decides to up to his brother's room, with the intent to start going through his Latin books. After all, if it was demonic possession, he would probably find I _something_ /I useful in Latin.

As he made his way across Sam's room, something catches his eye. It's the corner of a piece of paper, sticking out from beneath the mattress on his bed. Dean eagerly pulls it out, a mischievous smile on his face, hoping it's some kind of secret love note. It turns out to be an envelope, addressed to his brother, and with a big Stanford logo on it. Dean opens it, and the smirk on his face slowly disappears as he realizes what it is - an acceptance letter to Stanford.

Sam is 22 and Dean is 26.

They've been pulling pranks on each other for the past couple of days, each one worse than the one before. Dean can tell that Sam is a little bit pissed at him, on account that the last prank he pulled had ended up with Sam having his jeans full of itching powder. Dean had laughed at that, remembering the time when they were kids and he'd slipped some Nair into Sammy's shampoo.

Sam had acted like a little bitch the next day, talking to no one and sulking under the oversized baseball cap he had crammed on his head. He was shooting death glares at Dean across the breakfast table, and chucked a Cocoa Puff at his direction when he believed that John wasn't looking. Sam finally forgave his brother the next day when Dean presented him with a new set of mythology books – a compromising gift of some sort.

Watching Sam squirming and hitching up his jeans made Dean almost feel like apologizing and setting up a truce. After all, Sam wasn't the greatest at get-back pranks – the worst he'd done was blast Latin music in the Impala and turn the windshield-wipers on - and come on, he was his little brother.

Dean had almost started to make a truce with Sam as they were sitting in the Texas diner, feeling quite smug since he was sure they'd bring the Tulpa down tonight. He had considered apologizing – but that was before he realized he had his hand super glued to his beer bottle.

Sam is 23 and Dean is 27.

Sam is fast asleep on the motel bed, face down with his casted right arm under the pillow. Dean sits opposite him, head in his hands. He thinks about his little brother, all the hell that he's gone through, all the shit that's happened to him, and worst of all, the promise that he just made his older brother to make. If Dean had just kept his mouth shut when they were having a few beers at the lake that day and not told Sammy the secret, then none of this would have happened. Ava disappearing, Gordon finding out the secret, none of it.

Dean watches his brother roll over in his sleep, the smell of liquor on his breath. He has to admit, if he was Sam and had to put up with all the shit that's happened, he would have drank those beers, too. Dean contemplated doing the same thing, and probably drinking more.

After all, he's just made a promise to kill his brother. A man needs a few shots in order to numb the shock.


End file.
